How Sir Folko de Montfaucon came to rescue the two
damsels from the Moors.
On the root of an oleander-tree, in the middle of one of those
delightful gardens, which stretch out from the Spanish town of
Carthagena towards the sea, sat Gabrielle, with her bright eyes
directed to the azure vault of heaven; while Blanchefleur stood near
her, plaiting a garland from the many beautiful and rare flowers which
grow profusely in that warm climate. At some distance, a black slave
began, in a very pleasant voice, to sing a long ballad, setting forth
the campaigns of Sir Folko de Montfaucon against the Moors;--relating,
how fifteen of their bravest knights had bound themselves by a solemn
oath, that they would go forth and take him prisoner;--and how
they indeed set out upon their way, but not one of all the fifteen
returned;--how the Guadalquiva river ran red with blood, and the news
of his exploits rang in Seville and Cordova;--moreover, how the Moorish
brides lamented and wept for the loss of their betrothed husbands.
“Alas!” said Gabrielle, “there are other brides, who have had cause
to weep even more than the Moorish ladies.” With these words, she
mournfully hid her face and turned away.
The slave was alarmed, and said, “The great Allah knows I thought to
have made you cheerful with my songs, since they were in praise of the
deeds that your great countryman performed among us. Why then should
you thus weep?” Without answering her, Gabrielle continued to address
Blanchefleur;--“Oh, how fortunate are you in possessing such a brother!
may we hope ever to see him in this life again?” Then Blanchefleur’s
heart was also moved, and these two beautiful damsels fell into each
other’s arms, and embraced lovingly in their affliction. Thereafter
the Prince Mutza came with dignified demeanour, and gleaming in the
splendour of his Moorish apparel, into the garden. When he saw the
ladies still weeping, he retired respectfully for a few paces, and made
a sign that the female slave should come to him. “Is this then the
manner,” said he, “in which you fulfil the service which I intrusted
to you? I heard you playing on the harp; and with your music you have
only made these ladies weep. What your foolish songs were I know not;
but so much is certain, that from the pleasant task of waiting on the
beautiful Gabrielle, you shall from this day onward be excluded.”
Gabrielle de Portamour however observed Mutza’s discontent, and said,
“Be not thus angry with the girl; she is not to blame for our grief,
though it chanced that her music brought tears to my eyes. Believe
me, that even these tears afford more relief to my heart that all the
pleasures which your luxurious palace could offer. Rather should you
reward the slave for her faithful attendance on us.” “Praise be to
Allah,” said the prince, with a gracious bow, “that you have for once
honoured me by expressing wishes which it is in my power to fulfil.
Would to Heaven that your commands were oftener laid upon me, that you
might see how gladly they would be obeyed!” “Then, prince,” answered
Gabrielle, “I do command you to conduct me and my friend, the Lady of
Montfaucon, back to the coasts of Gascony, from whence you so unjustly
forced us away.” “Alas! fairest of damsels,” answered Mutza, with a
deep sigh, “spare me but this one request!” Thereupon Gabrielle turned
from him with anger and contempt.
Under the garden-terrace, close to the golden trellis-work by which
it was enclosed, lo! there was now seen, on horseback, a knight in a
magnificent Moorish dress; his countenance grave, and almost solemn;
while, though he was rather advanced in years, he did not fail,
according to the mode of that country, to wear large mustachios and a
long flowing beard. One of the noblest of Arabian horses neighed aloud
as he spurred him along, and he was followed by a train of attendants,
who, though they appeared in this station, might, by their dress and
demeanour have been looked upon as persons of high rank. Gabrielle
and Blanchefleur rose up from their seats, without exactly knowing
wherefore; and, with graceful curtsies, welcomed this brilliant though
yet unknown champion. The prince (for such was his rank) returned
thanks with a courteous bow; then drew up the reins, and made a sign
that Mutza should come forward to the grating, in order to speak with
him. That youth, who was at other times so proud and overbearing, now
hastened with an aspect of great humility to obey the signal; whereupon
the stranger threw himself into a new attitude, sitting sideways like
a lady on his horse; and a dialogue commenced betwixt them, which, by
Gabrielle and Blanchefleur, was for the most part understood; for they
were no longer ignorant of the Arabian language. It was as follows:--
“Are these then,” said the magnificent stranger, “the two beautiful
damsels that you brought hither from Gascony?--They are indeed rare
and precious gems of beauty; but, methinks, young prince, these are
but pearls and rubies, and thou hast left a diamond behind, which is
far more admirable and praiseworthy. Or is it, perhaps, but a false
rumour which has been repeated to me, how the grave and severe damsel
terrified thy cousin by her threatening words, and how she stood
solemnly clinging to the cross, in the red light of the evening sun?”
“May it please your highness,” answered Prince Mutza, “all this
is indeed true; and the wonderful maiden, whom we were unable to
bring with us, is named, in her own country, the Lady Bertha von
Lichtenried.” “Well, then, hear what I have to offer,” said the
stranger; “whoever shall bring that damsel safely to Carthagena,
beautiful and innocent as you then left her, shall receive for his
reward a third part of all my treasures, to be his own free property
and that of his children for ever.”
Thereupon a dwarfish, swarth-visaged man, but yet in rich attire, came
forward from the prince’s train, and said, “Were these words then
spoken in earnest? If so, may it please your highness, the Lady Bertha
von Lichtenried may surely be found within the limits of Christendom,
and, if found, may doubtless be taken and brought hither.” “It may be
so,” answered the proud Arabian, with a scornful smile, “yet, methinks
thou art not the champion by whom such a scheme will ever be carried
into effect.” “I had only ventured to ask,” said the Moor, “if your
highness were in earnest when you spoke of the third portion of your
fortune?” “I have promised,” answered the prince, “and methinks,
Alhafiz, thou should’st have known that my promises are never lightly
reckoned.” “So then we shall consider in due time,” answered the other,
“how the beautiful Bertha may be yours, and the money fall to my share.
‘But time won, all may be won,’ says the proverb; so then let me be
permitted for the present to take leave of absence from your highness.”
Thereupon, having made a low bow, he rode away, while the strange
prince, in the magnificent dress, looked after him, shaking his head
and shrugging his shoulders, as with compassion for the vain boast of
the little man. Then he turned to Prince Mutza and the ladies, whom he
greeted kindly, and regaining his proper position on his horse, trotted
lightly away through the pleasant fields and woods of that beautiful
country.
“What is his name?” said Gabrielle, when the prince returned to the
ladies on the terrace.
“Methinks, I have not for many a day beheld any horseman, who was so
brilliantly attired.” “He is the grand Emir Nurreddin,” answered the
prince, “the most invincible and renowned Moorish knight that the world
has ever known. After his deeds in the fiery eastern climes had become
numerous and brilliant as the stars in heaven, he has come over to us
here in the West, in order that his brows may not only be crowned by
the Asiatic palms, but also by the rich green laurels of Italy and
Spain. Our wise men look on him as one of the most prudent of all
counsellors; our generals no less admire his courage and activity on
the battle-field; and that the beams of his favour and condescension
have fallen on me in your presence, noble ladies, appears to me no less
flattering and delightful, than if it had been my lot before your eyes
to have conquered the sternest foe in the lists.” “We understood very
well the conversation which you now held with him,” said Gabrielle,
proudly, and turning away with disdain; “and we trust, that the one
and only true God, who protects the Christians, will defend Bertha von
Lichtenried from the fangs of this tiger; whom, indeed you may well
praise as your master and the mirror of Moorish knighthood, since, in
the first moment after your meeting, he begins to speak of violent
deeds against defenceless women.” With a cold imperious look, she gave
the prince to understand, that he should immediately retire from her
presence; which he did accordingly, silent and embarrassed, while by
a second signal, she in like manner sent away the astonished female
attendant.
Again seated on the fragrant grass, at the foot of the oleander-tree,
Blanchefleur looked at her friend with such an expression of mysterious
hope and rejoicing, that the latter was astonished, and could not
help asking what had given rise to this change. “Heaven be praised,”
answered the smiling Blanchefleur, “that we are once more quite alone,
and I can speak to you without fear or hesitation. Take your place
near me on the grass, however; for even though there is no listener
near at hand, yet of thoughts like those which are now in my mind I
would rather speak in whispers than aloud.” Then, when Gabrielle had
done as her friend desired, the blushing damsel hung down her head,
with its luxuriant tresses, and said in a low soft voice, “He is here;
the minstrel, Aleard, has come to us within the last two days. I have
many times seen him gliding round the garden and the palace.”
Gabrielle was about to express her joy at this intelligence, when
suddenly there appeared before the two ladies, who knew not from
whence he had come, a strange man in a slave’s dress, seemingly
young in years, with dark-gleaming eyes, and a pleasant smile on his
countenance. He approached them respectfully, and bowed, not after the
Arabian, but the European manner. “Who art thou?” cried Gabrielle;
“have some spells of enchantment brought thee to this place, or art
thou aware, that, on being discovered in our company, you cannot
escape destruction?” “Allow me,” said the stranger, “to answer your
third question in the first place. I am not ignorant, most beautiful
ladies, of the danger which here awaits me, nor so rash as to throw
myself in its way, did I not think myself tolerably sure that I can be
defended against it. But you ask if I have used enchantment to make my
way hither, and I answer no;--I have only removed some of the golden
bars of the trellis-work, which I carefully filed asunder, and then
replaced so neatly that no one could perceive what had been done. As to
your first demand, who I am, my answer is of little import. My name is
Theobaldo,--I am an Italian merchant, and had the happiness to be in
the train of the young Knight of Trautwangen, when, on that pleasant
evening, at the castle of Montfaucon, the Lady Blanchefleur sang the
ballad of Abelard and Heloise with the minstrel, Aleard. Thereafter I
went with the Count Alessandro de Vinciguerra, intending along with
him to join the army of King Richard Cœur de Lion in the Holy Land; but
not far from Naples we were taken prisoners by two Arabian galleys,
and at length were brought hither as slaves in Carthagena. But, to
conclude, I now consider it far more my duty to serve and assist two
beautiful young ladies, than an old graybearded master; and for this
purpose, I have made my way hither into the garden.” The two damsels
looked at him with astonishment, gradually recalling in their minds
his features, which before they had scarcely noticed; while Theobaldo
kindly explained to them, how he had entered into an agreement with the
minstrel Aleard, to rescue them from their present captivity; and that
they would all, including the Count de Vinciguerra, make their escape
together. At the close of his discourse, however, he said to their
great surprise what here follows:--
“I have confessed to you, noble ladies, that I am a merchant, and such
a person will seldom devote his time willingly to the service of those
who do not promise him some fitting reward. Now, the Lady Gabrielle
bears about her a wonderful ring, to which I am of opinion, since I
renewed my visits to a certain tomb in Italy, that I myself have just
claims and pretensions. These claims, however, are not yet fully clear,
even to myself; but whoever should confer on me this ring, would for
evermore secure my services and gratitude; and this much I can affirm,
that, whither as a squire or comrade on the field of danger, I am both
active and trustworthy. Nay, perchance at this moment, where we are so
far from Christian people, my assistance is indispensably required,
especially when an adventure has to be carried through so difficult as
that which we now propose.”
On his countenance, when he pronounced these words, there appeared
such a mixture of resolute energy,--of friendly good intentions,
and yet of conscious power,--that Blanchefleur eagerly whispered
to her companion,--“Give him, then, I beseech you, that unhappy
ring. Has it ever brought to either of us peace of mind or good
fortune?”--Gabrielle, however, considered long and deeply what she
ought to do. At last she had determined, and with her own hands drew
from her snow-white bosom the golden chain, with the ring, of which
the history and the virtues remained even to that day a mystery to
herself. She disengaged it from the chain, and gave it to the merchant,
saying,--“There, you have the gift which you desire from me. But beware
of the consequence; for you may find too late, that it is a dangerous
toy to play with.”--Theobaldo’s eyes sparkled as he looked at the
sparkling jewels;--at length he exclaimed,--“Welcome--welcome to my
hands thou sacred, and to me yet mysterious gem!--But, methinks, we
shall soon be better acquainted. Ha! even within these first moments,
seems it not as if all were already bright and clear as the noonday
sun?”--Thereafter, turning to the ladies, he said,--“Your safety is
now secured, noble damsels;--you shall be rescued;--and the Lady of
Portamour has lost but little, while on me she has conferred so much.
Yet, as long as I live in this world, I shall praise your kindness and
condescension, nor shall time ever set any bounds to my gratitude and
exertions in your service.”--So greeting them respectfully, he retired
into the thickets.
“That was in truth a strange man,” said the Lady Blanchefleur after a
pause; “and was not his appearance at the end of our discourse quite
changed from what it seemed at the beginning?--Methought almost that
his figure had grown taller, and his frame become endowed with gigantic
strength!”--“Ay, indeed,” answered Gabrielle, “he had changed all at
once into a powerful, resistless champion, and the tones of his voice
were deep and solemn. Notwithstanding his servile attire, one would
have looked on him as a man of high rank; though even then how humble
would he have seemed in the presence of your noble brother, over whose
exploits the Moorish brides are yet lamenting!”--At these words there
came a light waving and fluttering of wings over the damsels’ heads, so
that they looked up with surprise into the air, and beheld a beautiful
falcon, adorned with a golden band round his neck, which was now
wheeling in circles about them, and which, after playfully disporting
in this manner, at last descended, and, fluttering his wings as if in
joy and triumph, seated himself in the lap of the Lady Blanchefleur.
“Good Heaven!” she exclaimed, growing pale with terror, “what can this
portend?--It is my brother’s favourite falcon; and it is said, that
these noble creatures never leave their master, till he is laid in the
cold grave, and then they fly through the world, till they find either
his nearest of kindred, or some other master valiant and generous as
he was whom they have lost.”--“Speak not so frightfully, dearest
Blanchefleur,” said her friend, less agitated, though on her features,
too, lay the paleness of apprehension;--“what if he now came to you but
as a messenger, and with pleasant tidings?--Mark you, how joyous and
triumphant are his looks!”--Thereupon they unclasped the golden chain
from his neck, and found twisted therein a rose-coloured parchment,
on which there was inscribed, in pleasant courtly rhymes, an address
from Sir Folko de Montfaucon. With eyes gleaming with delight, they
read therein, that the noble chevalier was now in the neighbourhood
of the Moor’s castle, disguised as a merchant, but with a train of
faithful attendants; that he had sworn to effect their deliverance;
and begged that, if his visit were not unwelcome to the ladies, they
would appoint a time when he could best come to the garden and speak
with them. With a hand trembling with joy, Blanchefleur wrote an answer
on the same parchment, appointing that her brother should come to the
garden-terrace at sunrise.--“All are now here!” cried she. “My brother,
the minstrel Aleard, and the faithful falcon!--It seems to me almost as
if we were already at home!”--With these words the parchment was again
fixed by the golden chain to the bird’s neck, and he winged his way
joyfully into the blue fields of air. Joyfully, too, the damsels went
along the meadow, pleasantly illumined by slanting sun-gleams, towards
the Moorish palace.